Blood Canvas
by Setalina Muro
Summary: Certain arts were always difficult to replicate, even when you had the perfect canvas. Tainted Opticshipping. Longshot


**Blood Canvas**

**By:**

**Setalina Muro**

**Summary:** Certain arts were always difficult to replicate, even when you had the perfect canvas. Tainted Opticshipping. Longshot

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh or any places, people and/or other things you are familiar with from the show or anything else. The initial idea of OpticShipping came to me through Yamiko Yakou (now Imperfect Paradise) and I am now in love with it. I don't have a problem writing PegasusxShizuka as a couple and if you have a problem, don't read it! This plot, however, and all other plots posted under this user name, is mine.

**Warning:** rated 'M' for blood and gore, brief nudity, homicide and general misdeed. I have carefully combed the FFN rating guide and believe that this rating is appropriate (if not a little high).

I also stole Yamiko's warning method. Just for fun.

**A/N:** After Yamiko (Imperfect Paradise) was the only participant in my contest, I offered her a set of options to pick from as a prize, one of which being a one-shot of her choice. This would be it. She requested a tainted Opticshipping piece, which I am more than happy to submit.

I'm actually bringing back an old theme of mine, which is Pegasus's use of imagery to manipulate and contort the mind that I used in _Constrained,_ Chapter 7, that I recalled Yamko-sama taking a particular like to (her review still makes me laugh: _(jaw drops to the ground in a cartoon like style) O;; O(oh)M(my)S(sweet)M(merciful)F(censored)G(god)! & U called "MY" fiction "creepy!")_ Yeeeeeeeeah. Lol.

I don't _really_ think this will end up being bad enough to deserve the 'M' rating I plan to put to it, but I'm trying. I even went and looked up synonyms for 'blood' (thesaurus (dot) com is also a marvelous thing, along with Japanese-to-English dictionaries, _AMAZING_ Opticshipping drawings on Deviantart (courtesy of Yamiko heart) I think that _'hemoglobin', 'juice'_, and _'vital fluids' _are defiantly winners! -.-'

As I wrote this, I found it somewhat difficult to have Pegasus be both in character and sadistic to the level I thought it would be. Now seeing that this ended up being quite long (_miles_, actually. I thought I'd never finish) I'll stop with my random authors notes and allow you to read the TWENTY-FOUR page long story. Enjoy.

**Notes on the Story: **

Basically AU because Pegasus is not recognized as a creator of Duel Monster, which isn't even mentioned. Everyone is also older here. Pegasus is 42, Shizuka 32.

**

* * *

**

Blood Canvas

* * *

He was very into the dying arts, but some things were so difficult to replicate. The specific shades of red, for instance, that he required were not easily obtained, and, like everything else, they tended to fade to a murky color he just couldn't _stand._

There were other things that irked him. The models he desired were rare: slender gems that shimmered with vitality and gave airs like small bells in the wind.

He hated to be so fussy with them, he really did. Often, he'd find himself in the middle of polishing and posing to find his delicate flower marred in someway he had not foreseen and he'd have to scrap the project to find another bloom.

It hadn't been so this time.

Finished with one, he sat down behind an easel and pure white canvas to trace his delicately posed model. Taking a brush in hand, he cast a few gentle strokes before stopping to glance at the original.

He stood up, laughing airily. "How silly of me," he said. "And you would have let me forget the most important part." He stepped closer to the first piece, delicately strewn across a velvety red couch, and reached for one of his signature tools. His head tilted sideways slightly. "They are very lovely irises, my dear. I believe I will have to take the left one from you, however. Ah, yes. Thank you." A squelching sound followed as he took it into his hand. "Very lovely indeed."

Humming softly, he returned to his second canvas, sketching his token quickly and putting it with several others very similar to it.

"We need more roses, don't we?" he mused. "Of course we do. I knew you'd agree."

Gleefully, he alighted again and exited the ovular room by means of a door and staircase. At the bottom, he passed two men seated there. They exchanged glances, waiting until he was gone to whisper to each other.

"Boss seems awfully happy. Think he's got another one up there?"

"Probably…and she must be okay this time."

After a moment of silence, the first man cleared his throat. "You don't…eh, find this even a little bit twisted?"

"What are we supposed to do?" His fellow said, casting him an angry glance. "I'm not sending him to jail. Not after the salary I'm getting."

The man scoffed softly. "I'm not sure it's worth it to sit down here and listen to him kill those girls."

"Art projects," the other asserted, stretching out his legs. "They're just art projects."

"Is that how you sleep at night?"

"Yeah…it is."

"…Hey, Otonashi?"

"What?"

"How does he sleep at night?"

* * *

Shizuka Kawai was a prominent psychological theorist before she took the job at Tokyo University. It wasn't terribly difficult, the tutoring of younger minds, and she had come to rather enjoy it. 

"This is an excessive fear concerning one's own well-being which is considered irrational and excessive, perhaps to the point of being a psychosis, or person out of touch with reality."

"Paranoia!" Several loud voices called out. At the front of the room, Shizuka acknowledged the answer with a small, kind smile and a nod of her head before continuing on to the next term, her fingers trailing languidly down the text to the point she was looking for.

"The term _paranoia _was used by Emil Kraepelin to describe a mental illness in which a delusional belief is the sole or most prominent feature. In his original attempt at classifying different forms of mental illness, Kraepelin used the term _pure paranoia _to describe a condition where a delusion was present, but without any apparent deterioration in intellectual abilities and without any of the other features of dementia praecox, this condition was later renamed: what?" **(Au1)**

A student raised his hand quickly. "Schizophrenia."

"Correct." Ms. Kawai shuffled through the papers on her desk quickly. "Now, before we all run off and enjoy our weekends, I'm going to give you an assignment. I want an essay on examples of paranoia leading to alternate disorders as shown through media and movies. A minimum of 500 words. And no _Lord of the Ring _references." A bell rang and the students began to leave. "Have a good weekend, everyone!" she called after them.

She sat down at her desk, looking through the mounds of paper again. After a few moments, she began to hum as the mess slowly organized into piles to reveal a desk of blonde oak. There were several oddments on it of personal nature. There was a plastic apple with the words:

2 teach is

+2 touch a life

--------------------------

4 ever

Accompanying it was a small figurine merry-go-round pony encased in a snow globe and a set of conjoined picture frames. Inside the first was a 'then and now' photograph of Shizuka and her brother followed by a group shot of six or seven people laughing on the beach. The third was of a single man, smiling only slightly for the camera, and the final of her shaking hands with a professor as she received a diploma**. (Au2)**

Her eyes softened and a contented smile slid over her lips as she took the collection into her hand.

"Strange," a voice said, starting her out of her reverie. "You never would have struck me as the immaculate, redolent type, Ms. Kawai."

She glanced up to the man who had spoken. "Then you obviously haven't been paying attention to my class," she replied, grinning slyly.

He laughed softly for a moment before leaning onto the desk. "Quirky as ever, Ms. Kawai," he said. "Would you care to grab some coffee?"

She began to finish organizing her desk. "As I've told you before, I would be buying my own drink and we would only be discussing a thesis paper, Mr. Crawford."

"Ah," he sighed. "I could never hold to such a vapid topic."

Smirking, she softly replied, "My _deepest_ apologies."

"Stubborn," he accused.

"Persistent," she shot back.

He laughed again, picking up the framed pictures she had set aside. "I try," he responded. "So, brother, friends, graduation….boyfriend?"

"Fiancé."

"Ah," he sighed, casting away several strands of silvery hair. "Such a pity."

Shizuka smiled and stood, her task complete. "If you'll excuse me, Mr. Crawford, I have a meeting to attend to."

"Pegasus," he insisted, stepping into her path and holding her gaze. "How many times must I ask you to call me Pegasus?"

"'_Once more, as always, Ms. Swan_,'" she mocked. "And I really must be going."

His gaze remained settled on her contemplatively, and hesitantly, he raised a hand to trace her cheek. "I could see you…" he muttered. "In blue with velvet roses…"

"Poetic, Mr. Crawford," she twittered nervously, quickly pulling away before shoving roughly passed him. "I really have to go. Excuse me."

As she hurried out the door and down the hallway, she willed her heart to be still and the hackles on her neck to fall. There was nothing _particularly_ strange about Pegasus Crawford but the man just creeped the hell out of her.

He wasn't unattractive by any stretch of the mind. He was in his early forties, slender, a little over six feet tall with long, pristine silver hair and redwood colored eyes. Shizuka honestly didn't know what it was about him. He was very polite, educated generally well (though why, at forty-two he had decided to jump into psychology, she'd never know) was studious, and had a naturally artistic mind.

She reasoned at first that it was because of how strange it was teaching a man older than her. He was a man who would be more mature and experienced. Almost all of her students were in their early twenties, which gave her at the very least ten years of experience on any of them. She was thirty-two, labeled as a 'mature woman,' who was good, understanding, and strict, yet had lessons everyone was bound to like and was 'cool' enough to approach for advice in situations outside the classroom. She enjoyed being seen this way and liked connecting with her students.

Later, she contemplated if it was his romantic advances that unnerved her, but that wasn't it either. She had dealt with such advances all her life and was able to keep plutonic friendships with the men.

It was…those moments when he faded out and his eyes darkened heavily, and the voice he found after his silent observations was strange and frightening. The words he said were equally unnerving. He would fall into those trances and her entire being screamed for her to run.

'_I could see you in blue with velvet roses…'_

She shivered as a cool breeze swept over her, blowing autumn leaves across the ground.

But still the truth remained, etched in her heart. There was something very wrong with Pegasus Crawford…

* * *

_A picture is worth a thousand words…_

He smiled as he attended to the final stroke, sitting back to marvel at his work.

"Beautiful," he murmured. He stood up, coasting around the easel to stand above the model of his portrait.

"You were amazing, my dear," he said, casually picking up a strand of curling flaxen hair. As he stroked it, he settled down onto the floor beside his latest 'project'.

She whimpered slightly as he touched her and his hand pulled back instinctively.

"Oh," he said, offhandedly. "You're still alive. Your longevity far exceeds that of the others."

She began to cry softly and the tears mingled with the blood on her face, trailing down her cheek.

"Y-you're sick," she managed between quivering breaths.

"Strong girl," he purred, raising a hand to touch her again, his fingertips gracing her lips and hair. "But don't worry. It will be over very soon."

Time passed. It may have been hours or moments, neither really would have known, but the sun had set, its golden rays tracing her delicate curves in finality as it fell into the horizon. She seemed determined to live out the remainder of the day and as the horizon melted into a dark blue color, a violent tremor passed over her body, and her shuddering breaths died away as life finally left her.

"Sayonara," he whispered, and when he pulled his hand back, it was covered with a sticky, dark film. His hand tilted, trying to force moonlight to reflect from it. However, the moon gave back no definition of color, so, slowly, he moved back toward his easel staring at his hand. Cautiously, he lit a candle standing on a black iron stand. As the flame crackled to life and greedily devoured the wick, a strong glow filled the room. The man raised his hand, the golden flare glistening off the plasma that clung to his fingers. It was a warm, rich crimson and he smiled, moving to take a small brush in his hand and drag it across his left index finger. The color clung to the bristles and he moved to look back to his portrait, a detail he desired eluding him suddenly. He dipped the brush into a cup of water and the plasma flooded off, depleting in tone until he swished and raised it again.

It was the tears he wanted as he carefully dabbed on the portrait near the maculated left eye. The small, blood-laden drops of water slid down the oil in the painting, leaving a crimson trail in their wake. He smiled as he caught the excess water dribbling down.

"And now," he said, setting aside the brush and sitting back. "Now it is perfect."

* * *

The faces of her students Monday morning spoke all the horrors a newspaper article and brief television report could not. To the police and news, the young woman had been another victim in the serial killings that had been plaguing their school since early in the year, but to the young adults that sat before Shizuka Kawai that day, she had certainly been someone. 

Shizuka sighed as she noted the empty seat that had belonged to Kisa Tanaka. Several students had placed flowers there in commemoration and Shizuka couldn't help the sinking feeling in her stomach as she stood up.

The class had never been so silent, and sighing, Shizuka looked at each sorrowful face before clearing her throat and standing.

"It is the general policy of the school that recent news events not be discussed in the classroom, but I don't believe it is right to hold to the policy in this case. The act of violence that has taken Kisa from us was not self-induced; she did not do drugs, she was not in a gang, and I believe it is dishonorable to treat her death as if it was her fault.

"I am postponing lessons and we will use this class as a rest period for the next several days. If you need to talk and want me to listen, or want to talk with a counselor, or to the class, please do not hesitate."

The class remained silent. Some laid their heads on their desks, stifling sobs while others merely stared as tears ran silently down their faces.

Shizuka silently moved around her desk and sat down. "Kisa's funeral has been set for Thursday," she said. "On Wednesday, if it does not offend anyone, we will have a ceremony in honor of Kisa."

A young girl raised her hand shakily, and her voice wavered as she spoke. "Ms. Kawai?"

"Yes, Usagi?"

The girl stood up. "K-Kisa was a really g-good person," she stuttered. "W-why? Why did it have to happen to her? She never did anything against anyone! Why Kisa?"

Her eyes narrowed as she demanded the answer, her tears making an angry trail down her face. "Why, Ms. Kawai, _why_?" she broke into sobs. "It wasn't _fair_."

Shizuka sat as collected as she could, her stomach tying in a knot. "I can't answer that question, Usagi," she said. "I don't know why it happened or why Kisa was chosen by this predator. But you're right. It wasn't fair…"

* * *

The class didn't shuffle out until the find bell rang. It was quiet and all had been taxed emotionally, Shizuka especially. She hugged a few of the students as they filed out, giving a few others comforting squeezes to their shoulders. After a few minutes, the classroom was empty, and Shizuka shut the door retreating to the safety of her desk. 

She covered her eyes tiredly, surprised to find them wet. Her bottom lip began to quiver, and as she laid her head in her arms, a dry, cracking sob escaped her throat, resounding dully in the empty classroom. Another soon followed it and another as the voices of her students flooded her head.

'_It wasn't fair, Ms. Kawai…'_

'_I think this guy deserves to die…'_

'_She was my best friend, Ms. Kawai…'_

'_Ms. Kawai, I never told her how much I loved her.'_

'_They made her parents identify the body…and she didn't have an eye…he took her eye…'_

'_I can't believe she's dead, Ms. Kawai…'_

_Ms. Kawai…_

_Ms. Kawaii…_

"Ms. Kawai!"

Shizuka started at the hand on her shoulder shaking her into reality and the voice loud in her ear. Her heart was pounding quickly as she turned wide golden-hazel eyes to the owner of the hand.

Her eyes met a pair of familiar, wine colored orbs. He knelt beside her chair, his face fixed with worry. Cautiously, he reached up to rest his hand on her cheek, using his broad thumb to wipe away the tears that stained them.

Her wide eyes took him in, her mind suddenly relishing the comfort of a human companion. His warm hand stroked her face softly and she felt the tears well up again. A fresh sob escaped her mouth as she slid off her chair and into his arms, sobbing as she clung to him.

At that moment, it didn't matter that it was Pegasus that held her and stroked her hair, that it was Pegasus wiping away her tears. In that moment, although she couldn't have said why, she _needed_ him.

It started to matter when he softly kissed her forehead, murmuring, "Forgive me."

She started back at these words, her mouth forming to question him when a smooth terrycloth swept over her face and a sickeningly sweet smell filled her mouth and nose.

"Stop!" she screamed out, her cry muffled by the cloth as a grey haze began to hint at the corners of her world. She struggled in his grasp, pushing away with all her strength. Through struggling limbs, she struck him roughly in the face. He let out a startled gasp as she rushed for the door, out of his reach.

She hit the release bar hard, her shoes clacking as she entered the startlingly empty hallway. Her heart pounded in her chest as she made for another door, but try as she may the haze continued to cloud her mind. The sudden rush of adrenalin was not enough to keep the sedative at bay and she began to stumble, doubling over as she veered suddenly into a wall. The force shook her to the floor and she struggled to stand, but her legs would not comply.

She looked around for something that could help her. Anything! An emergency fire alarm was directly above her and she reached for it, her fingers groping up the wall.

Then the footsteps came.

Panic overwhelmed her suddenly and she struggled to move more quickly up the wall.

Pegasus was coming closer, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. He was bleeding from a cut by his mouth, no doubt from their struggle.

She felt the tears well up and in a desperate lunge, her fingers grasped the edge of the lever and she pulled down, an alarm wailing suddenly around her, resounding off the walls.

For a moment, relief swept over her as she lay, unable to move or struggle further, but she was not safe. Panic had spasmed over Pegasus's face and he rushed forward to grab her, anger flaring in his eyes as the wailing bells rang out. He swore loudly as he gathered her into his arms and she struggled like a fussing infant. The tainted cloth was still in his hand and he pressed it to her mouth.

The world began to fade again, but she had no strength to fight it. The dizzying haze danced before her vision in stunning familiarity as the alarm's bell began to melt away. She felt herself pressed against Pegasus's chest. He bounced as he walked, his platinum-silver swinging with the motion. It was the last thing she remembered before the deep oblivion that was to come took her. His hair swayed and her eyes trailed up the side of his face no one ever saw. And suddenly she knew why. Between heavily scared folds of skin, there was an eye socket….

And Pegasus had no eye….

* * *

It was a gentle rhythmic humming that filled her ears as consciousness began to filter back to her. She did not know what the song was, didn't even remotely recognize the tune, even, but it was slowly bringing her back. 

A glittering sun was shining from somewhere to her left and it warmed her face. A soft ache was drumming in her head, but that was trivial. She could take some ibuprofen when she got up to go to the university.

Vaguely, she wondered what time it was, but still couldn't shake the nagging feeling that some detail had been excluded by her mind.

Her eyes opened slowly (for they were quite heavy) to an unfamiliar room. It wasn't the usual kind of unfamiliar in which she didn't immediately recognize her lover's sleeping quarter due to obscene amounts of alcohol. No, this was absolute lack of recognition.

The light, eerie hum kept her from panicking. The tune grew no more familiar, or louder, or nearer, and she was no closer to identifying the owner, but it kept her tied to the moment. In holding her bearings, she neither groaned from pain nor began to weep as she may have been inclined to do during a moment of blind panic.

She gazed around the room she desperately hoped to recognize. Stone grey walls stared back at her and a single bay window, carefully fitted with bars. There was a multitude of furniture stored there: tables, chair, and stools in an array of wood, color, and style. Some were broken and strewn carelessly about while others were piled precariously. Only one showed sign of use. There was no dust on it, merely oddments of this and that, feathers, a rose petal…

She sat up a little to take a closer look at the contents of the table. Oils paints, brushes, a brass key, a small ovular frame, directed face down. All reminiscent of a personal space. Her eyes came to rest on a small bar at the end of the desk and suddenly her blood ran cold.

The instruments there could not be used for anything other than surgically induced pain. Pinchers and cutters and pokers, but what really caused the terror to flood her heart was the long, cleaver-type knife resting beside a large glass jar that was full of…

Her eyes widened at first, mouth gaping slightly as her stomach churned. It couldn't be…

But it was. The crystal jar was full of eyeballs.

The scream that tore out of her mouth could have wakened anything in that moment, but the most it did was bring the humming to a sudden halt. It dwindled only after a minute and she laid shaking and quaking on the dark red couch.

Footsteps from her presumed host appeared moments later, taking measured steps toward her until they stopped and she dared to open her eyes again.

Standing before her, head cocked slightly in a bemused fashion, stood Pegasus Crawford.

Terror, memories, and panic flooded back to her as she stared at him and the slow smile creeping across his face.

"Good _morning_, Shizuka."

She was taken aback by his sudden appearance, and the recollections of the evening before caused her heart to pound. After a moment, she fumbled backwards, falling off the opposite side of the futon-type couch. **(Au3)** She struck the ground hard and a rattling sound followed her movement. A gasp of surprise escaped her mouth when she found a long chain attached to her ankle by a gold-tinted shackle.

Pegasus laughed softly. "You'll have to forgive me the formality of the bonds," he said. "I didn't know when you would wake up."

All she could do was stare at him, at a loss, images of the previous night swimming before her.

He gazed at her steadily, a soft smile on his face. Shizuka flinched as his hand went to his pocket, but he did nothing more then extract a golden key and unlock the shackle on her leg, his mouth turning up at the corners as he announced his latest intention.

"I'll get you some breakfast."

She heard his footsteps and the door clicking as he closed it and softly treaded his way down a set of stairs.

Her breathing was ragged and tears had sprung to her eyes. She had to get out.

The door was locked when she tried it, tugging on the ancient brass handle.

She bit her thumb, looking around the ovular room. There was no other exit. The window was covered with iron bars and even if it hadn't been, it would have been a long drop from the breezy heights of the tower.

On the far side of the room, draped in shadow, she could barely make out a collection of rectangular frames, glinting with polished gold. Letting curiosity overwhelm her for a moment, she stepped cautiously toward them, her eyes adjusting slowly to the shadow.

They were portraits, dark and dismal, of young girls who must have been pretty in life, but now, captured in blood-soaked gore, they seemed mutilated. She paced down the row, the images of the lifeless bodies, covered in blood from their own wounds and posed 'artistically', burned in her mind. Her delicate brows drew together as she reached the last one, and suddenly, she felt sick.

It was Kisa….

As she turned around to flee the paintings, she slammed into the desk, _hard_, her side suddenly throbbing as she dropped to the floor with the shock of impact. But her action had managed something at least. A dull '_thunk'_ echoed as a heavy brass key tumbled from the edge of the desk. She grabbed it, praying, and scrambled to the door to fit it into the lock. She felt her heart skip as it clicked and swung open.

Shizuka rushed down the stairs, her feet cold against the concrete. She didn't have time to go back for shoes.

As she rounded the bend coming toward the bottom, she heard gruff voices and froze.

Guards…of all the things Pegasus had, there had to be _guards_…

Beyond the two burly men, there were three hallways. Only the one directly in front of them had doors and they were large, coal black, and looked very heavy. She looked at the key in her hand and without hesitation, threw it down the hallway to the right. It bounced once with a heavy _'thud' _before striking something metal (a suit of armor, she guessed). It toppled over, rattling loudly as it struck the ground.

The guards took off down the corridor as Shizuka sprinted toward the other….

* * *

The two guards entered the hallway, their hands resting on their guns. They neared the fallen piece of armor, scattered around the hallway. 

"What the hell?" the older man breathed, glaring at the offending item.

"Damned if I know," the other replied, stepping forward to inspect the mess of iron. He cast aside a few pieces as he shuffled though them before coming up with the brass key, a perplexed look on his face.

Suddenly, there were footsteps behind them and they both turned to lay eyes on their employer, dressed in a lavish red suit. He had his brow raised in curious annoyance. "Now, what _is_ the idea behind all the racket?"

"It wasn't us, sir," the first man said nervously. There was never a lot of speech that passed between the two gentlemen and their boss and this man knew more then well what Pegasus was capable of.

"I think…someone threw this at it," the second guard stood up and held the brass key out to Pegasus.

The crimson eye widened as he took the key in and to the surprise of the two men, Pegasus suddenly turned and dashed up the stairs to the tower.

They exchanged a glance and followed slowly to their abandoned posts. There was a heavy clatter from above them followed by rapid footsteps. Pegasus tore out the entrance to the secluded tower, his face red with fury.

"OTONASHI! NAOKI! FIND HER!" he raged. **(Au4)**

The men stumbled over each other to get away from their livid employer.

"Damn it," Pegasus swore as they moved down the opposing hallway. He turned and kicked the wall with a resounding _'thud'_. "GOD DAMN IT!"

* * *

**(Au5)**

As he sprinted down the hallway, Naoki was having trouble remembering exactly _why_ it was he had chosen to take a job at the Crawford manor. His conscious had gnawed at him repeatedly ever since he had first learned of Pegasus's "hobbies".

He rounded a corner, only paces behind his partner who had stopped by a division in the hallway, panting heavily.

"I'll go left," Naoki offered, his youthful body holding an endurance Otonashi's could not, and entered the hallway.

Honestly, he didn't want to find the girl; didn't want to see her. He had one thing that Pegasus didn't require when he hired his thugs: compassion.

His pace slowed as he came near another corner. He wasn't tired, but on the wall, he saw a vague shadow and, with a tinge of despair, he knew he had her. Steeling himself to be as grim as possible, he rounded it.

It happened very quickly.

The young girl moved to swing the vase at his head, but he caught it as it flew through the air, taking her wrist in his other hand. She didn't struggle. The moment the 'weapon' left her hands all resistance failed. He watched it die in her olive eyes, any hopes of freedom fading.

He couldn't stand it.

A surprised looked crossed her face as he dropped her wrists and put his hands to his head.

"It's not right," he whispered, shaking it. He pulled the keys from his pocket and held them out to her, followed by a cell phone. Then he turned away.

"Go straight, passed the next two halls, then left, right at the next and left. It'll take you to the entrance hall. Use the keys to go out the door."

He could feel her staring at him in shock for a moment before she flitted away.

"Thank you," she called over her shoulder.

When he knew she was gone, he picked up the vase and breathing deeply, he smashed it over his head…

* * *

The harsh grass was a kind reprieve from the soft carpet in the castle, despite the pain of an occasional jagged rock. She could bear it. As Pegasus's home faded behind her, Shizuka felt relief flood her. 

It wouldn't last long. As she coasted through a green forest, she realized the trees were unfamiliar and the plants were foreign. She couldn't still be in Japan, and it was only when she reached a tall cliff that looked out onto the ocean did she realize. She was trapped on an island, somewhere to the east of Japan.

Her fingers tightened on the small black cellular phone. There was no better time, she figured, then to try it.

The police line for Japan wouldn't work, so she dialed the only other emergency number she knew. It had come from books and a few movies small children who, for some reason, had been brought by their parents across an entire ocean to live.

"**911 emergency." **

The voice spoken in broad English, a thick American accent slurring the harsh sounds. Shizuka didn't care. She was just so glad to hear another voice!

"Hello?" she asked, twice to be certain they could hear her. "Hello?"

"What is your emergency?"

"My name is Shizuka Kawai. I'm a professor at Tokyo University. I've been kidnapped. I don't know where I am. He has me on an island somewhere. I need help. He's going to kill me! He's done it before! He-"

"Calm down, ma'am," the voice, now coming through clearly as a woman's, said.

Shizuka hadn't registered the hysteria edging into her words or the panicked octaves driving her tone.

"You don't know where you are?"

"N-no." She huddled down, wrapping one arm around her legs. "It's an island."

"Alright. Now who is 'he'?"

"P-Pegasus Crawford."

The voice was silent for moment and there was a shuffling of papers on the other end. "Ma'am, please wait. There is an important person I need to connect you with."

She waited as the voice disappeared, comfortless on the barren plain. A cool wind swept across her and she shivered, anxiety twisting in her stomach.

"Miss Kawai? Are you there?"

The edgy young woman jumped. "Y-yes!"

"I have a detective here. Is it alright if he talks to you?"

"Yes."

She heard the phone change hands and suddenly there was another voice in her ear. It was male this time, deep and serious. "Shizuka?" he said. "Shizuka, this is Detective Aremana. Are you alright?" **(AU7)**

"Yes," she managed to breath.

"Shizuka, listen, you need to be very careful to stay away from Pegasus Crawford until we get there, do you understand?"

"You're sending someone to save me?" Shizuka felt the black despair lift.

"Yes. Of course. Now, Shizuka, you need to understand something. Pegasus Crawford is a very dangerous man and is more than capable of doing terrible things."

"I know," Shizuka whispered hoarsely. She stood up and began to pace. "I-I've seen the pictures."

"Pictures?" The detective sounded shocked. "He's got pictures?"

"He p-paints them. It's awful." The images flashed across her mind and she shook her head, trying to fend them off, fighting the bile that rose in her throat.

Suddenly, a stick cracked from somewhere behind her and she turned to watch a myriad of birds cascade from the braches of the forest and escape into the horizon. Her heart beat wildly, the detective on the other line forgotten as a group of shadows appeared through the forest gloom.

The phone clattered to the ground, sliding out of her quaking fingers as she bolted from the cliff. She didn't even break the lines of the forest before there were hands constricting her. With wide eyes, she watched as Pegasus bent to collect the black phone, putting it to his ear and smirking.

"Why _hello_, Detective." He paused. "No, no. I'm afraid Ms. Kawai isn't available." Silence again as his eyes drifted to her, devious and hungry, his grin widening. "Hmm…Captain, I wouldn't _dream_ of it." He snapped the phone shut and strode toward the goon that held her. "Get her back to the castle," he ordered, toying with strands of her hair. His eyes darkened considerably as he locked eyes with her. "I'd _love_ to get started."

* * *

She was confined by four shackles now, pinned to the velvet couch, forced to watch him begin the project. Most of the time she wouldn't look at him, but his presence was nearly unbearable. 

He sat behind the heavy wooden desk, a bright light beaming on his project, giving his face a haunting look. He worked with a pair of tweezers, carefully fitting delicate white feathers onto a metal frame.

Shizuka tried not to watch, almost afraid of the purpose of the prop. Instead, she stared around the room. She had lost the energy to cry any longer and she made no attempt to speak to him.

He made comments occasionally, some biting and others bent on the cruelty of his practice.

As he set down the tweezers, finally finished with one white wing, he looked up and followed her gaze to the dark corner that was his wall of trophies.

"You know, none of _them _ever tried to escape," he said matter-of-factly.

Her gaze turned to him. Already there was a failing looking in her eye. They held eye contact for a moment before she looked back to the portraits and in a quiet voice she said, "Why Kisa?"

"Kisa? Oh. You mean the last girl. The blonde one." He stood up and walked over to her, kneeling down beside her. "Don't you find it in bad taste for me to talk about my previous projects?"

"You mean victims," she spat, turning away.

A soft smile touched Pegasus's face. "She was beautiful," he said. "And had the most beguiling laughter."

"So that's all it takes? A pretty face and you're ready to kill them?" He didn't answer, so she continued. "You like their looks and yet you aren't a sexual predator. You—"

"Miss Kawai, please. You are not here to psychoanalyze me."

She pulled pleadingly against her bonds. "You know if you had let someone help you before you wouldn't be doing this."

He shrugged and stood up. "You wouldn't understand," he said.

"What wouldn't I understand?"

"That this is an art. You…you see it as merely murder; like it doesn't have a purpose. I'm not killing these girls. What markings were necessary for the portrait were added to them. There was not a single cut I made that they could have not lived through."

Shizuka's eyes narrowed as she observed him. "Why did they die then?" she prompted.

"They _died_, Miss Kawai because they _wanted _to. _They_ wanted death. I didn't force it on them."

She bit her bottom lip as a well of confusion flooded her. "And their eyes?"

He gave her a very piercing look. "_I_ lived through it." One hand brushed his mane of hair contemplatively. As his hand returned to his side, so to did the heavy look in his eye. He turned from her. "I have the most interesting story for you, Shizuka." As he said this he walked back to his desk and picked up the wing he had so carefully detailed, and grinned toward her. "Very interesting indeed."

"What happened to you?" she asked.

"_Quiet_," he hissed. "I'm not answering any more of your questions. You're just like the rest of them. You're just a project. You mean nothing." He set the wing down on the table again and stormed out of the room, leaving Shizuka alone.

She felt a shiver pass over her body. What was Pegasus talking about? She tried to reason it out for a few minutes. Had the abatement of his eye cause a relapse in his mind, reverting him to the state he was in? And moments ago, when he had answered her questions almost…sadly…was he trying to break free?

Her thoughts were cut short as his footsteps materialized outside the door. He entered again, but did not speak to her. He glanced at her once, momentarily, his gaze angry. Shizuka took the hint and did not try to restart the conversation. He sat down and began to complete the second wing.

It didn't take as long as she had hoped, and she realized that while Pegasus worked, he did not sleep.

And the next day it began…

* * *

The sun had barely crested the horizon when Shizuka awoke to the shackles clattering from her wrists. She started up, terrified, to find Pegasus at a closer proximity to her than he had been since the kidnapping. His eyes were dark and his smile empty. 

He watched her calmly, calculating everything. She could read it in his eyes; see it in the curve of his smile and the furrow in his brow.

He was going to make her bleed.

His hands flew out, yanking her shirt roughly over her head and she found her chest bare as well. He moved with a speed and determination she had not seen before, and only moments later she was lying on her stomach, a white sheet spread over her lower body. The chair felt cold against her bare chest. He had her hair pinned on her head hastily, her white back exposed.

Her thin frame was quaking as his hands ran across her spine, probing, and she realized the goose bumps that erupted across her were not from the sudden lack of warmth. She was terrified.

Yet she was not ready for the pain. It happened instantaneously. She felt a cool point of metal against her flesh, near her shoulder, heard the heavy clang against it, and as it broke her skin, it tore through her like lightning, and suddenly, she was hoping for nothing more then death…

* * *

The pain refreshed itself as she awoke from a dead faint, firing through her nerves. Tears sprang immediately to her eyes. There was no adjusting to it. 

He was playing music, a dark, haunting song, and he spoke over it, softly, as if caressing the air. He circled her as he breathed the words, adjusting her hair and preening every little detail.

She lifted her head, sending a wave of motion rippling down her body, shaking the metal wires beneath her skin. She chocked down a painful sob. Quickly, Pegasus dabbed at her eyes with a velvet cloth.

"Angels," he whispered. "Shouldn't cry."

She closed her eyes, shuddering in spite of her efforts to remain motionless. She could feel the thin metal wires; blood oozing from six points in her back. For a moment, she wondered what exactly it was he had marked her as.

After a moment, she began to listen to the tremor of Pegasus's voice. Not because she wanted to know what he was saying. No, she had no real wish to know the tale he was weaving, but she had to focus on something; had to forget the blinding pain of her wounds.

It was the kind of tale bards had sung, full of mystery and pain, deceit and obsession. And as he murmured it, he painted, stroke for stroke, the beautiful death that lay before him.

"—a beautiful, fragile angel," he was saying. "And they called her a seducer of men. How she loved to fiddle with fates the gods had prepared. Filling the stony hearts of adventurers with passion; stirring kings to lust-driven wars and harsh words. And the more men she coaxed from destiny, the greater the god's anger became.

"Until one day she made the mistake of seducing an artist, who had been chosen to save a woman, a princess, from dying and in rescuing her becoming a good and kind king as reward. But the angel had other ideas.

"She was never one for subtle interventions. No. The spell she cast upon him was a strong obsession, one he would never forget so long as his heart beat.

"And this made the gods very angry. So as she toyed with him, stringed him along, they planned her death…"

Pegasus stood up and moved out of her line of vision. Shizuka was still adamant about not moving, so she listened to his voice as it roved around her.

"They were going to clip her wings," he continued. "End her little proceedings and send her somewhere she couldn't toy with mortals anymore. They sent their best archer, armed with a single silver arrow. He found her quickly and as she fluttered and preened for her lover, he shot her down."

Shizuka's eyes fluttered open as she heard a taunt string snap to attention. In her mind, she had been seeing the images he described but she had not registered the meaning behind them. But as the bowstring in her mind was fired with its deadly accuracy, so was the one Pegasus held in his hands. The arrow struck her left side, tearing through skin, losing speed against her ribs. A torrent of gushing blood burst from the wound and Pegasus chuckled darkly.

"Her artistic lover watched as she fell from the blow, vowing to wait by her side until death came."

He laughed again as he moved beside her to stroke the hair of her gasping and quivering form. "I told you it was poetic, angel," he chuckled. He stood up and returned to his easel, sitting down and taking a brush in his hand.

Agonizing hours passed. Pegasus focused every part of his being on her. His eyes drank in ever detail and he copied them with the precision of his careful strokes.

When dusk fell, and the light was no longer sufficient for painting, he rose from his seat and settled on the floor beside her. His hand occasionally reached out to rest on her head. Her fiery hair was soft, but more often than that his fingers brushed across the lid of her left eye, gently, so as not to wake her from her feverish doze. Inside, it seemed, a battle was raging. His eyes were furrowed with conflict and he would murmur to himself every so often.

What was holding him back?

* * *

On the far side of the island, unbeknownst to Pegasus Crawford, something was happening. 

Out in the clear bay of the island, a large boat was anchored and from it, several small dark shapes were bobbing closer to the shore. As they reached the sandy beach, men, dressed in dark clothing, leapt from the vessels and dragged them ashore

As the lead boat ground to a halt, a figure stepped calmly to the ground. He had a worn face and small black eyes with disapproving creases that told that he had seen one too many horrors in his long career. The detective wore a long brown coat and a small scowl as he scanned the tree line.

A figure hovered there, hesitantly, and the detective raised his head slightly to call to him. "You the one?"

The man started, unaware they could see him. The detective smirked slightly and started forward, followed by the police detail quietly un-strapping their guns and holding them at the ready.

"This needs to be done quickly and covertly," he said form the corner of his mouth. "And I want the son of a bitch _alive_, got it?" his steely gaze worked back to the man in the trees. "How're we going in?"

"There's a tunnel and a maze that comes out right by the castle," the man stuttered. "From there, the best entry point would be through the dungeons."

The detective nodded slightly and the group of tactics officers began to make their way through the trees. The detective journeyed up the small slope behind them and clapped his hand on the shoulder of the correspondent. "You're doing a good thing by helping us, kid."

"I know." He turned slightly away from the detective. "I…I've just never seen one of his 'projects' alive before. And she….she's too brave to die that way."

"What's your name, kid?"

He sighed, heart pounding. His nerves were standing on end as he brought his own weapon to the ready and took a step to lead the team. "I'm not a kid," he said. "And my name is Naoki."

* * *

The sun was up and bright as Shizuka began to drift back for the second time. The aches in her body were duller than they had been the night before and her newly acquired arrow wound had stopped bleeding. She suddenly understood what Pegasus had meant when he said the inflictions were livable. 

As her honey-colored eyes opened, she almost started with the surprise of seeing Pegasus next to her.

He sat in a small ball, his knees pulled up against his chest, arms draped tightly around them. He was biting his lip uncertainly and his gaze was locked intently on the leg of his redwood table.

"What's wrong with me?" he whispered.

"Other than the obvious?" Shizuka couldn't help but offer in a dry, cracking voice.

He looked toward her slowly, his face calmly puzzled. "It's you," he said, haunted eyes causing her heart's pace to speed up as they met with her own. "There's something about _you_." His gaze swept back to the table. "Something's different than the others."

She didn't respond this time, but let the silence drag out.

His eyes closed slowly, but a moment later his body tensed and the orbs shot open again, hardening. "Helicopter," he spat out venomously.

He moved to his feet quickly and went to his desk, frantically shuffling through it, scattering the oddments of his life to the floor. He came up with a pair of tongs, one side shaped like the bowl of an ice cream scoop.

Shizuka felt a flood of panic as he stood poised with the instrument. Images flashed across her mind of the girls along the wall, dying without their left eyes; her own momentary glance of Pegasus's own disfigurement.

He stalked toward her, stopping to stand over her. She noticed that his hand was shaking and chanced a glance at his face, unsure if it would se t him off. But the dark pomegranate orb was contorted with doubt.

The instrument clattered out of his quivering hand he slowly sank down beside her, resting his head against the velvet.

"I don't understand," he whispered after a few minutes, sitting up. On his knees he moved farther up the couch, resting by her head.

She wanted to turn away from him, but knew she couldn't. He gazed searchingly into her eyes and one hand swept her auburn hair from her face.

Shizuka was terrified by the look he gave her. It was a strange mix of pity, awe, and something else. Something very much like…

He moved closer to her suddenly, resting on his knees and gently pressing his lips over hers. She started back and he followed her, feeling something stirring in him. Something he hadn't felt for years.

There was a passion there, hidden beneath the delicate, yet demanding, kiss.

A great cacophony rose suddenly from down the stairs and the next moment the great oak door clattered to the ground.

His lips lingered on hers for a moment before he pulled back and stood up, amiably raising his hands. "Ah, Detective," he greeted as the severe, brown-coated man walked through the fractured entrance. "Welcome."

The man stared at him for a moment. "It's over Pegasus," he said grimly.

Yet a clever grin was still alighting on Pegasus's face. "No, detective," he replied, turning his head to gaze intently at Shizuka. "This is one thing that will never end."

* * *

Shizuka awoke with a start, a sharp gasp issuing forth from her mouth as she shot up. Her body was coated in a cold sweat. She quickly subdued her heavy breathing, casting a glance around the moonlight-shadowed room. It had been years (twelve years in fact) since the terrible week she had spent near the American border. Twelve years and yet she still couldn't sleep a full night. As she lay back down, closing her eyes and covering them with her cool forearm, her right hand unconsciously swept over the long round scar on her left side. She tired not to focus on her dream, refusing to let the terror engulf her. 

She lay in the middle of the bed and it felt large and cold. It was the bed she had picked out back when she was supposed to get married, before her life fell apart. He was oddly understanding when she sad she couldn't go through with it; that it terrified her every time a man even touched her; sent a scream begging to escape from her throat and adrenaline in her veins pumping. He was still taking care of her, though, sending her money to live off. She had never been able to return to her job.

Slowly, she fell to dozing and her breathing became steady. The nightmare was slowly returning and she heard a deep familiar chuckle.

Her eyes snapped open and she sighed at her pounding heart. After looking around the room again her eyes rested on the far corner where the shadow of a tree danced along the wall. As she looked away, she thought she saw the faintest inkling of movement beneath the shadows, but when her gaze returned and she stared at the spot, it seemed there was nothing.

She felt her nerves on edge and she shuddered, slightly paranoid, wondering for a moment if she should switch on the light to calm herself.

A cold laugh echoed from nowhere and she froze, felling very sick. Cautiously, she reached out for the light, her fingers quaking as she groped. And suddenly, she felt a pincer-like grip on her wrist.

The springs of the bed creaked, shifting to support the fresh addition of weight. The grip found her other wrist in the dark and pinned them both above her head.

She was still frozen, praying she was dreaming again, even as he straddled her body, resting on his knees. Silver locks of hair fell in a curtain as he leaned down and she watched as the glare from a crimson colored eye loomed closer. An easy smile flashed, parting as the terrible voice issued forth.

"Hmm. How I've _missed_ you, my dear."

She began to thrash violently, hopelessly confined by both him and the blankets. All he did was laugh, even as she began to scream shrilly, and he pressed his mouth over hers, muffling her cries.

"Shhh," he cooed, brushing her face and hair softly with one hand as the other confined her wrists still. "Shizuka."

"W-why did you come back?" she choked out, unable to hide the stutter as his hand caressed her pale throat.

"I told you, my dear, that prison walls alone could contain my love."

She lay silent now, resigning herself to the fact that she would die soon; deciding she would go with dignity. She would not beg this man for her life.

"What now?" she asked calmly.

"Now?" he raised a brow contemplatively, gazing toward the ceiling. "I've had twelve years to dwell on this very moment. On seeing your beautiful face again…and touching you…" His hand ran across her hair again and he seem to be holding his breath as the hand trailed down her face and neck, passing between her breast to pause on her stomach. The sickening nerves followed it and his finger slipped under her nightshirt to stroke the very scar she herself habitually touched. He caressed it gently and Shizuka shuddered. "We've both left our marks on each other. Now," he whispered. "Now I want you, Shizuka."

Suddenly, the phone sprang to life beside the bed and he cast it an annoyed glance before reaching over to unplug it. The green light went black.

"They're calling to warn you I've escaped," he said softly, pulling a white cloth from his pocket. She flinched away, turning her head. "No, no, angel," he corrected as he bound her wrists with it. "No more tricks like that."

He stood up, pulling her behind him off the bed until her bare feet touched the carpet. It was to the back door he led her, unlocking it calmly. The click sent her nerves firing again.

"I don't want to go with you." She pulled back against her bonds.

A soft smile was alighting on his face. "Do you still think I want to kill you?" he laughed, taking her struggling form into his arms to carry her out.

It was cold outside, the breeze of fall cascading dying leaves around them. There was an unfamiliar car in the driveway and he calmly opened the door, setting her down in the back seat. He paused, leaning down to taste her again.

She felt the tears filtering into her eyes as he pulled back and moved to the other side of the car, climbing into the driver's seat. "No," he whispered. "Now I want every part of you."

He checked her in the rearview mirror, still smiling, even as he saw her glistening tears.

"Shizuka," he said, turning around. His voice was softly terrifying her and she squeezed her eyes shut, not looking at him. But the words he uttered nearly made her gag.

"The one I could never subject to my pain," he whispered, toying with a lock of her hair. "The canvas I couldn't destroy. My angel, my serenity. You're coming with me now, because I love you."

The words cut her heart and she began to sob.

With that said Pegasus Crawford backed out, put the car in drive, and sped off into the darkness.

* * *

**Author's Comments **

* * *

**Au 1:** Source is http (colon) (backslash) (backslash) en (dot) wikipedia (dot) org. 

**Au 2:** I was vague about who was in the picture. As far as I'm concerned, it could represent anyone in the known Yugioh universe (save for Pegasus and any of the older men), and I'll leave it to your imagination. It's not really important.

**Au 3:** Now, when I say 'futon-type couch' I see this couch, rather like a lawn chair actually. Very low to the ground, covered in red velvet. Important? I'm not sure yet. But you need to know my vision.

**Au 4:** Originally, I was going to give them the American names of 'Cole Smith' and 'Mac Jones' (Mac being the elder guard) but they seemed too…generalized? I dunno. But I decided I wanted to use Japanese. Otonashi in Japanese means 'no sound' indicating that he is the silent guard, content with his position and unwilling to sacrifice his rather large paycheck in the name of some justice that could be done to Pegasus. _Naoki,_ on the other hand, who seems to have more of a conscious than Otonashi, translates to 'honest tree' which, although there are other names (such as _Shin_ ('true'), _Yoshiro_ ('good/free son'), _Nobu_ ('expansion or truth) and others) I actually quite liked Naoki better.

**Au 5:** You'll have to forgive me the incorporation and development of a minor OC here. None of Pegasus's _true_ guards would have fit the part.

**Au 6:** Not trying to kill himself, just an elaborate hoax so Pegasus wouldn't think he helped her…or something. He's got a heart, he's not stupid.

**Au 7:** Aremana is of Hawaiian origin, because obviously, the closest area to the Sea of Japan that is part of the United States is Hawaii. We're going to pretend it's a last name. Meaning: 'Powerful man'. Yeah. Sure. Better than the name I had.

* * *

**A/N: **First off, Storm Dewleaf gets a giant '_**THANK YOU**_' for editing this. Because of her marvelous talents and advice I was able to post this early (two weeks in fact) _and_ am confident that there are minimal to no mistakes. 

(deep breath) Wow. Okay. I hope that was worth however long you spent reading this. Please leave me a review. I spent the last six months with this as my pet project. Its also my twenty-third story on FFN. Yay me. (and on a more 'eh-you're-just-being-stupid' note, I'm one story short of having as many as Yamiko, which was always kind of a secret goal of mine. . Does it still count seeing as how she's erased several of her stories? ponders)

Yamiko, I hope you enjoyed it.

Lina


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